Driftmetal II

by J. C. Staudt

Sable was confused. “How do you figure?”

  “Tommy here is going to get the Archduke to let us off the hook. Aren’t you, you scummy scumbag? Archdukes can do that, you know.”

  “If only it were so simple,” said Thomas. “I’m somewhat on the outs with the Archduke. I’ve run away from home, you see, and I shan’t be going back.”

  I sat down on the ground, crossed my legs, and propped up my chin. “Do tell.”

  Thomas gave his deepest and most thoughtful sigh yet. “Gretchen Wilshire, with whom I have found myself so perilously smitten, is the young Archduke’s mother.”

  “You are the most interesting person I’ve met all day,” I told him. “How does this old lady feel about you?”

  “The same, I’m afraid. Which only makes things all the worse. I tried to convince Gretchen to run away with me, so that our love might never be discovered. But she has refused me. I told her I couldn’t live like this anymore, and that if she ever loved me, she must meet me in Darigal in two weeks’ time to prove it. I feared she might tell her son of my advances, and that his retribution would be swift and final. So, Rindhi and I fled that night. We are no common thieves, as you have so rudely accused us of being. However… I do admit we made off with a few family heirlooms to ease our financial burden along the way.

  “Rindhi and I were on our way to Darigal when The Nimbus Queen, the ship on which we had secured passage, was damaged in a storm. We landed here and decided it would be safest to keep to the wilds until she was airworthy again.

  “If I don’t make it to Darigal in time, I fear I shall never forgive myself. If I do make it, and Gretchen is not waiting there to greet me with open arms, I had intended to mail the letter you now possess. It is a love letter, yes. It makes plain my intentions and confesses my affections in quite an incriminating manner. But also, it concludes with a hidden ultimatum. One which only Gretchen, when she reads the words, will understand.”

  I pulled out the note and read it again. The last paragraph read:

  Meet me where I promised to be, my love, so that I may give you everything. But if never you long for our lips to touch again, then do not. And for the wound you have opened in my heart, I will bleed out into the world the seedling of your love’s bloom.

  I read it twice more, then looked at him. “You know a secret about her. You’re threatening to go public with it unless she runs away with you. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Thomas sighed and hung his head.

  “This letter really is blackmail.”

  Sable spoke up. “You claim to love this woman, but you’re holding this secret over her head to make her leave her own son behind for you?”

  “I wrote the letter without knowing whether I’d have the guts to actually send it. It was meant to be sort of a… last resort. I wanted to believe that when it came down to it, she’d choose me. I just don’t know anymore.”

  “Tommy, I love to be the bearer of bad news. So it brings me great pleasure to announce that no woman is leaving her royal son’s palace to live in squalor with a poor, jobless hobo. You’re on your own, buddy. You just lost your position of privilege and managed to burn the noble bridge behind you, and you did it all for nothing. This puts me in a bad mood, because now I’m not getting a royal pardon, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Don’t be so cruel,” Sable told me.

  “It’s the truth. Tom needs to face facts. He’s living in a fantasy world.”

  Dennel McMurtry chimed in. “The man who won’t play the part of either the expert or the fool to attract a beautiful woman is no man I’ve ever heard of.”

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “People do stupid things for love,” said Mr. McMurtry.

  “Of course they do,” I said. “Love happens to be one of the primary reasons people do stupid things. Those people are idiots. Smart folk don’t need excuses to do stupid things. At least… I never have.”

  Mr. McMurtry gave a wry grin. “Perhaps one day you will.”

  I looked at Sable, who blushed.

  “Well Tom,” I said, “since it looks like our royal pardon is out of the question, I’m sorry to say that you are no longer of any use to me. Good day to you, and best of luck with your life as a destitute has-been.”

  Rindhi had come to and was sitting with his back against a tree. I shot him with the hand pulser one last time for good measure, then started off into the woods toward Lowell’s Market.

  “Wait,” I heard Thomas say behind me. “Please. I need your help.”

  I spun on my heel and pointed the pulser at him. He scrambled backward until I lowered it again. “You need my help? Have you already forgotten that you and your pal over there just tried to hold us up at gunpoint? If so, let me remind you that I am smoother, smarter, and inimitably better than you in every way. I don’t have the time or desire to list all the things I am that you could never hope to be. Of course you need my help. But I’m not going to give it to you. That tree must’ve knocked out what little sense you had if you thought I was.”

  “Please, sir. You’re right. I’m a desperate man. I’ve done more that I’m ashamed of these past few weeks than I’ve ever done in my whole life prior. My hopes may be dashed… and my spirit may be broken. But I will not give up that easily. I have decided not to send the letter. But I have to get to Darigal in time. I have to know for sure whether she’ll come to me. Will you take us there? Please take us. We’ll behave, I promise. Clap us in irons, if you must.” He held out his wrists submissively.

  “I already have all your money,” I said. “The stuff in the knapsack would pay your way, but I’m not going to waste my time going door-to-door trying to hawk a collection of tarnished spoons to the elderly. I’ve got too much other stuff I need to sell.”

  Thomas began to sob, for real this time.

  “You’re a monster,” Sable said, curling her lip at me.

  I couldn’t remember the last time someone had curled their lip at me with such pure and unfettered disdain. “Aw, shucks. You really think so?”

  “Yes,” she said, sparing no hint of scorn. “And as long as Uncle Angus is away, I still have command of the Galeskimmer. Don’t you forget that, Muller Jakes. She’s under my command, and I say who comes and goes. When we get airworthy again, we’re taking Thomas and Rindhi with us, and we’re bringing them to Darigal.”

  Thomas was perplexed, having thought Sable ‘Beverly’ Brunswick was my servant. “What? But you said—”

  “Never you mind what I said, Tommy. I’ll make a punching bag out of your scrotum, so help me, I will.”

  Thomas crossed his legs and shut his mouth.

  “They tried to pulse us,” I reminded Sable.

  Her lips went taut. She spoke in a loud whisper, as if Thomas weren’t right there, listening. “Have some pity. They were desperate. They’re out here on their own, trying to get by. I know exactly what that’s like.”

  “They’re still desperate,” I said. “Even more so, now that I’ve got their money and their only weapon.”

  “Give the money back. You know we don’t need it.”

  I let out an agitated breath, playing it up. “You’ve got a lot to learn, helping people out of the goodness of your heart all the time. Way too much of it in there, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask. I’m giving you an order, as your captain. I helped you once, too, Muller. More than once, if I recall.”

  I scowled. “Okay, I get it. I just think you tend to see a little too much good in people, even when there’s none to be seen.”

  “We’re doing this, Muller. Are you really this heartless, or are you trying to be a bad influence on me?”

  “I try to be a bad influence on everyone equally,” I said. I tossed the chips into the air over Thomas in handfuls, letting them rain down around him like hard confetti. Sheepishly, he began to pick them up.

  Sable put a hand on her hip. “Now, the letter.”

  I tweaked my head and stared at her. “N
ext you’re gonna tell me to give them their gun back. Uh-uh. No. The letter, I’m keeping. And the pulser too, in case you were about to ask. Not a chance I’m letting them get on that boat while they’re armed, even if I’m not the captain.”

  Sable bit her lip, but she didn’t argue. To Thomas, she said, “Wait here for us until we’re done in town. We’ll take you back and get you a nice warm meal and a comfortable bed to sleep in. How does that sound?”

  Thomas brightened a little, but I still saw the remains of utter discouragement gripping him like a clawed hand. I was so pleased I could’ve slapped him in the face with that hand. Instead, I put both the letter and the pulser away and trudged off into the fog-laden woods again. This time, Dennel and Sable followed.

  2

  Lowell’s Market was much bigger than its name gave it credit for. It was grandiose, really, with looming brownstones and tudor rowhouses that looked more like bite-sized cathedrals than homes and storefronts. It was an inviting town that made you feel like you were part of it from the moment your feet hit the street.

  Sable helped me straighten my disguise before we emerged from the woods. My wanted poster was all over the place, complete with my middle name and a terribly-rendered artist’s depiction of my likeness. Someone could’ve sauntered into town with a gatling gun that shot posters and still put up fewer of them than were plastered to every building and signpost around. I wondered where the Civs had found the epileptic one-eyed kindergartener they’d hired to draw me.

  Sable and Dennel advised me to hide in the woods and let them take care of everything. I told them I wasn’t having it, and that we’d better split up so we could get things done faster. We agreed to meet up at the same spot in three hours, then went our separate ways.

  I wandered through the town square for a while, twitching my mustache like a proper fellow and making inquiries about the local driftsmith. I gathered that he was a guy who went by the name of Cat Loughlas. Whether Cat was his real name or not didn’t much matter to me—nor did the circumstances by which he’d acquired such an unfortunate moniker. All I cared about was whether I could get him to buy what I was selling.

  I found his shop and meandered inside, tossing the chunk of gravstone ore from hand to hand as I perused the merchandise.

  “Help you?” asked a sturdy-looking brown-beard from behind a glowing furnace.

  “I’m looking for Cat,” I said.

  He wiped his brow and came over to me, pulling off his worn leather apron and tossing it over a low worktable. “Cat’s me,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Hal Nordstrom.” I held out a hand.

  Cat shook it with his big greasy mitt.

  “That’s a nice-looking runner you’ve got going back there,” I said. “Hundred-ninety-four footer?”

  “That’s right,” Cat said, surprised. “She’s so big I’m doing the runners in segments here and fusing them together on-site. You know your stuff.”

  I shrugged, playing it coy. “I grew up around boats. I’ve always admired a good set of runners. That one is gonna be part of a good set.”

  Cat made light of my compliment. “Yeah, I was just heating up and getting ready to put the finishing touches on. The boat she’s going on is something special. Breathrider. A beautiful piece of work, that one.”

  “I’d love to have a look. She docked anywhere nearby?”

  “Unfortunately, no. These runners are getting shipped across the Heights to Everwynd when they’re done. I saw the ‘Rider when I went to take measurements. The boatbuilder over there is a bit of an ornery fella, but he’s got more’n enough talent to make up for it.”

  “He’s not the only one,” I said, pointing to the runner.

  “So… what was it you were looking for?”

  I was beginning to think Cat wasn’t much for flattery. I gave him the gravstone. “I’m a sales representative from the Redfield Mining Company. This is a sample of our product.”

  “Never heard of ‘em,” Cat said, turning the stone over in his hand.

  “We’re a small operation. But we pride ourselves on adding a personal touch to our business. Are you in the market for any gravstone?”

  “I’m always in the market. But what kind of gravstone is this? It’s still got all the plain old rock attached to it.”

  “It’s unprocessed, yeah… but the stuff underneath is good. Pure.”

  “This how you usually sell it? Just the raw stuff with all this junk all over the outside?”

  I gulped. “I think you’ll find that it’s more affordable this way. We can deliver it in higher volumes and for much better prices than you’re used to paying.”

  “Sorry fella, but I don’t have time to sit around chipping off the crust so I can get to the sweet spot. I pay the higher prices because I like the convenience of getting straight to work.”

  “Most driftsmiths say that same thing the first time I walk through the door. Once they hear my prices, they change their tune awfully quick.”

  “Okay, so cut to the chase,” Cat said.

  “What’s the going rate for purified gravstone around here?” I asked.

  He told me.

  “My prices are about half that,” I said.

  “Half?”

  “Only if you buy today, though. Once I walk out that door, I can’t promise you the same deal.”

  Cat rubbed the side of his neck. “How much of it you got?”

  I knew Sable was going to be pissed at me for selling a bunch of our gravstone for half of what it was worth, but the amount I’d been able to carry into town with me was only a drop in the bucket. We had plenty more where that came from—and now we had ourselves a few ‘walking around’ chips for making repairs to the Galeskimmer.

  I was heading toward the local mechanic’s shop, which Cat had been nice enough to point me in the direction of, when something stopped me in my tracks. It was a brightly-painted sign on the front of a small bistro two or three blocks away from the town square. The sign read YINGLER DELICATESSEN.

  I did a double take. Backed up a few steps. Leaned over to look in the windows. I spelled out the name. It was Lafe Yingler’s last name, alright.

  When Chaz had fallen and hit his head on The Secant’s Clarity, he’d started spouting off a bunch of gibberish. At least, I’d thought it was gibberish at the time. At one point he’d said something about making trays on the Kalican Heights. Had he known? Were the owners of this deli the Yinglers my good friend Lafe called family?

  I went inside. It was a small place; nothing fancy, with a long glass counter displaying various meats and cheeses, and a few round café tables for customers to eat on. An aproned teenage girl was standing behind the counter. She slid a brown paper bag over to the young man standing on the other side, who handed her a few chips and left the store. The girl had dark hair like Vilaris, and I thought I could see his features in her face. But that might’ve been a manifestation of my wishful thinking. There was only one way to find out.

  She looked up at me and smiled. “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”

  Might as well give it a try, I thought. “Uh, yes, I’d like a word with Lafe Yingler, please.”

  Her mouth made a little upward movement, then straightened again. “He doesn’t work here anymore.”

  Bingo. “And you are…”

  “Cierra,” she finished.

  “You know Lafe?” I asked.

  “I’m his sister,” she said.

  Of course you are. I suppressed the devious smile I felt trying to creep up onto my face. “I thought I noticed a resemblance. Well, I’m sorry to have missed him. Do you by any chance—”

  As I was speaking, the young girl’s older doppelganger appeared in the doorway to the back room, wiping her wrinkled hands on an apron of her own. “You have news of my son?”

  I thought quickly, the medallion pulsing on my chest like a second heartbeat. “I’ve got… questions about him. Lafe and I are old friends. You haven’t seen him in a w
hile, I’m guessing?”

  The old woman gave me a somber smile. “He comes home to visit every now and again. Been away longer than usual this time.”

  I did my best not to feel sorry for her. That was difficult, since she had a power-hungry, genocidal maniac for a son. “He’s been… busy,” I told her.

  Hope glimmered in the old woman’s eyes. “Has he won his race?”

  “His race?”

  “Lafe’s an aspiring politician. Didn’t you know? He’s campaigning to become Mayor of Seskamode. It’s not a large town, and he’ll have to live on one of those low-flying floaters downstream, but… you’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

  I had been wondering what sort of lies a dastardly traitor like Yingler might’ve been telling his family to hide the truth of his activities. Actually, I hadn’t spent a single second wondering about that. But now I knew. And if there was one thing my dear old dad had taught me, it was that the right information can get you a whole lot farther than the most powerful augment.

  “Oh yes, his race…” I said. “Silly me. Nope, he hasn’t won anything yet. That’s the reason I came here looking for him, actually.”

  “Is something wrong? Has something happened to him?”

  Not yet, I wanted to say. “I hope not. I went to visit him… in… Seskamode. I was told he’d come here; that he missed you all very much and he was anxious to see you before the end of his campaign. I was on my way into the stream anyway, so I thought I’d pop in and say hello. But now that I see he hasn’t arrived, I’m worried.”

  “He was on his way here?” said the woman. “That’s news to me. We haven’t had a call or letter from him in weeks. The last one he sent made no mention of a visit.”

  I frowned. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing. He must’ve been delayed somewhere, or else he stopped off to run an errand along the way. Perhaps he wanted to surprise you. Look at me, now I’ve gone and ruined the surprise.”

  The two women seemed to ease a bit.

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” said Lafe’s mother. “You’re probably right in that he was delayed.”

  “Do send him my regards when he arrives,” I said, tipping Mr. McMurtry’s top-hat.